


Drugstore Cowboy

by Brate



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action, Gen, Humor, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Chris wants is some aspirin...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drugstore Cowboy

He was tired. Dead tired. All week long he'd had to deal with idiotic bureaucrats, felons, and his own nearly out-of-control team. He needed a break.

And some very strong aspirin.

Belatedly remembering he had downed the last one earlier that day and he had no more at home, Chris Larabee pulled into the first drugstore he saw and parked his truck. He walked briskly into the store, consumed with a single purpose—get the pills and get the hell home. 

Chris marched directly to that aisle and started looking for the strongest headache medication he could find. Rejecting brand after brand, he heard a disturbance near the rear of the store.

Striding to the back, he caught a furiously whispered command. _"Give me the fucking money or I will blow your goddamned head off."_

Cursing silently, Chris made a quick decision. Calling 911 on his cell was out—there would be no way they could get here in time. He would have to handle it alone. Cautiously, he crept down the row, peering around the corner. Chris spotted the armed robber pointing a gun at the clerk of the prescription counter.

He quickly scouted the drugstore, making sure there was only the one gunman to deal with; he didn't want to be caught unaware. Running through plans in his head, Chris decided on a course of action. Moving to the aisle displaying beverages, he picked up three gallon-size jugs of water. Balancing them with his left arm, he held his gun behind them, firm in his right—effectively hidden by the containers.

Strolling to the rear of the store with his load, Chris took a deep breath. Stepping forward, he walked balls out, no hesitation. Seemingly distracted, Larabee pretended to know the pharmacist as he called out, "Mike, you got my prescription ready yet?"

The gunman turned toward the vocal newcomer. Chris raised his head, feigning shock, and almost dropping the water. Instead, he threw them at the robber who instinctively tried to catch them. While the man tried to recover his equilibrium, the ATF agent drove his fist into the robber's face, effectively knocking him out.

"Call the police!" Chris shouted to the pharmacist. He covered his prisoner until the authorities came.

Larabee saw that the press had followed the cops; most likely they had been listening to the scanners. He ducked his head, covering his face with his hat. Fortunately for him, Chris knew the lead officer from his days in the Denver PD. His statement was taken swiftly and before long he was driving home.

Pulling into his driveway, he realized he had forgotten to buy the aspirin needed for his escalating headache.

~~~~~

Early Monday morning, Larabee entered the Team Seven's offices and groaned when he saw his men. They were all sitting at their desks, faces covered with the weekend edition of the Clarion News. The paper that happened to sport a picture of him in his cowboy hat and duster underneath the headline: "Drugstore Cowboy Thwarts Robbery."

Chris swore to himself when he saw the papers. It simply named him as an "unknown federal agent"; the photo wasn't very clear—his face was covered by his hat. No one would know it was him…except the people that already knew him. He had hoped his men had been too busy over the weekend to bother reading the newspaper. 

Apparently, it had been in vain.

"Shouldn't you boys be getting some work done?" he asked in a falsely angry voice, attempting to prevent the coming ridicule.

Buck Wilmington was the first to drop his paper. "My hero," he exclaimed in falsetto, wringing his hands together while batting his eyes.

"Can I have your autograph?" asked JD Dunne, rushing forward with a pen in one hand and the newspaper in the other. 

"Don't make me stick that paper where the sun don't shine." 

JD wisely backed away.

Nathan Jackson stood before his leader and admonished, "You should have called for backup."

"There wasn't time," Chris defended. 

"Hmmph," Jackson grunted. He crossed his arms over his chest. "There's _always_ time. It's a good thing you didn't get hurt."

Chris was touched by Nathan's genuine concern. 

The Nathan spoiled it by adding, "I bet your replacement would be even worse than you."

"Thanks, Nate," snarled Chris.

Standing up, Josiah Sanchez raised his hands over his head. In a booming voice, he intoned, "Oh, Heavenly Father, thank you for bringing our friend back to us safely. You have rained great mercy upon us today and we praise you with all of our being. Can I hear an 'Amen'?"

"Amen," the men chorused.

"Let us join hands and praise His greatness," Josiah continued.

"You better pray I don't turn you into a eunuch, Josiah." Chris saw Ezra bent over his desk, shaking. Knowing he would regret the action, but not being able to stop himself, Chris asked, "And what's wrong with you?"

Standish popped his head up, displaying the tears streaming down his face. "I am just so proud to be working under such a magnificent man such as you. You are a warrior of the finest caliber. I admire you so much," he sobbed. "You are the best boss I have ever had and I shudder to think I might have lost you."

"Keep it up and I'll put you undercover in a coal mine."

Ezra quickly dried his crocodile tears.

Chris scowled at the last remaining member of Team Seven, Vin Tanner. "And what do _you_ have to say?"

"I guess we're just lucky the headline didn't read 'Rhinestone Cowboy'!" Vin responded with a grin. "I woulda had to wonder 'bout your extra-curricular activities."


End file.
